


let the memories be good for those who stay

by someassemblingrequired



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Marvel, Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: AU where Gwen is alive, Character Death, Established Relationship, Peter mentioned in passing, Rare Pairings, crackship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-12
Updated: 2012-10-12
Packaged: 2017-11-16 03:39:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someassemblingrequired/pseuds/someassemblingrequired
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's just the latest in a string of the people he's loved and lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let the memories be good for those who stay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [princessu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessu/gifts).



> Elizabeth: "Imagine your OTP grasping hands one last time as person A fades away from wounds that they sustained by saving person B."  
> Gwendolynn: ksjdhfksdjgnkudshgsjfs mY HEART
> 
> We RP Gwen Stacy & Matt Murdock on a Marvel AU RP. This was born of our crackship OTP (Gwatt. Gwen/Matt) which, if you think about it, could actually be acceptable because they only have one degree of separation (Peter!) so...it's not as far fetched as it sounds. Shhh.
> 
> http://someassemblingrequired.tumblr.com/post/33415753869  
> There's the music I listened to while writing. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this. I promised her I'd write it, and Catie told me it made her cry, and frankly, Gwen deserves some feels after ditching us. Lyrics pulled from Winter Winds, Mumford & Sons.

" _MATT. NO._ "

When Gwen Stacy was 21 years old, her father was killed evacuating some children during an attack on New York. She remembers crying for weeks afterwards, because she was only a few blocks away, sprinting as fast as she could to get to him and try and help. Instead, he died alone, and, if she's perfectly honest with herself, she never quite got over not being able to say goodbye. She's almost lost her best friend more than once, and she's not quite willing to watch someone die in front of her eyes. Not someone that she loves, that's for damn sure. She lost her father too young, she's scared every day that she'll get news that Spiderman didn't make it out of his most recent encounter, or that Daredevil and Kingpin went for it one more time, and Matt was the unlucky one. She's not ready to lose someone that she loves quite as much as either of them. 

So she doesn't hesitate when she realizes that her fiancé is too focused on the man right in front of him, and not focused enough on what his radar sense is telling him about his surroundings. The man coming at him with a sharpened pipe is too close, and she knows that she can react fast enough, but Matt is too distracted. Yelling wouldn't do anything except make the situation worse, and she's not quite sure he'd be able to hear her anyway. To be honest, she's not even sure he's realised that she's here. She's moving before her mind really catches up with what she's doing, her body instinctively throwing itself against him and, for all intents and purposes, shielding him as she lines up the shot. It's a protective move, honed after years of being that overprotective big sister to her brothers, and that over protective best friend to Peter.  

She's always been the kind of person who'll throw herself in front of a bullet for someone. Her dad raised her to believe that taking care of others, that defending the people you loved, was the height of it all. And, if she was being real with herself, she knew that if she would go out early, it would be because of the people she loved. She would never let them face their crazy lives alone. There's nothing that could convince her to abandon them. She knows that, now more than ever, as she feels her shoulder hit his side and her finger pull the trigger.

His blood splatters up on her face, and she silently thanks Director Fury for those god forsaken mandatory gun training sessions that _everyone_ (even the science staff!) have to take every quarter. She got him right in the head, point blank, but her hands are shaking and her mind is buzzing as the world seems to move in slow motion. She instinctively clicks the safety and feels the gun fall out of her hands. She's shaking, but for all the wrong reasons. Her fingers feel cold, like all the warmth has been sucked out of her body, but she can't quite figure out why. 

Everything seems incredibly foggy and she hears, from a great distance it seems, Matt's voice screaming her name. She wants to respond, she really does, but when she tries to open her mouth, everything seems to shut down and start up and hit her all at once. Her hands drop to her sides, and she feels a dull throbbing in her gut. She closes her eyes for the briefest second, because she doesn't want to look down. Looking down will make it real, more real than she's ready for it to be. But her traitorous muscles are moving her neck, and when she opens her eyes again, her hands are over her stomach and they're sticky with something red that smells metallic. 

And there's a sharpened pipe protruding from her torso.

It all happens at once. She drops to her knees and a gurgling noise pushes its way out of her throat. She can dimly feel someones hands on her shoulder, and there's yelling filling her ears, but she can't really understand a word of it. Her stomach is cold, but she's having trouble breathing, and she tries in vain to force her scientists brain to assess the situation. The pipe is at an awkward angle, and was probably forced upwards right after she shot the guy on the ground. It's possible it punctured a lung, much more possible its hit some seriously vital organs, and with the amount of blood she can feel soaking her shirt, she knows that this is probably something she won't make it out of. 

She tries to shake her head to clear it as she feels someone lowering her to the ground and tugging her into their lap. She wants to move, wants to argue that she'll just get blood all over them and that's stupid, but her nose is filled with the familiar scent that she wakes up to every morning, and suddenly her body goes cold. Its the smell that lingers on their sheets, the smell that she associates with warmth and safety and happiness. It's a smell that's very much her fiancé, and she lets her head loll against his chest. Her numb hands shift infinitesimally and she can feel, from a distance, that his fingers are laced with hers now. 

And he's whispering something to her, and she can't quite understand it, but she's pouring all her energy into trying to squeeze his hand. Trying to get him to look at her. She arches her head as much as she can, and he seems to understand her silent request. The Daredevil cowl is pushed back, and all she can really see through the haze is his gingery hair and the shiny tear tracks on her face. His lips press against hers, and she returns the kiss as best she can, trying to force herself to remember the feel of his lips against hers. It brings back memories from the first time they met, in college, and from their first fight, and their worst fights, and of nights shared on the couch watching movies (well, _she_ watches, and he listens and laughs as she flails and yells about gay subtext and how those two characters are standing _way_ too close together to be strictly friends!), and, her favorites, of long nights and longer days spent together in bed, memorizing every inch of each others skin. 

She gasps and chokes and he's right there, whispering in her ear and stroking her hair with his free hand. She can hear people milling towards them, but she can't feel her legs anymore and she knows that his uniform is stained with her blood, and that there's no hope. She just wants him to hold her now, because there's nothing else he can do.  

Her second to last thought is how unfair it is that he always loses the people he loves. 

She lets that thought, and his gentle hand, guide her into the bright light that's threatening to engulf her vision. She's pretty sure she can see the familiar figure of her father, and _is that her Grandmother?_ , at the end of this bright tunnel of light. She wants to look back, wants to stay, but she knows she doesn't have much of a choice. So she squeezes his hand with the little power she can muster, and follows the light.

Her voice is so quiet that he's the only one who hears her. But that's alright, because her words were only meant for him. Her last words are that she's sorry, and that she'll wait for him. Her very last words are, "I love you." 

And then her hand goes limp in his, and she's gone.


End file.
